


Opening Night

by RandomGuygoesviral



Category: Kindergarten (Video Games 2017 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Cute Ending, Eventual Fluff, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Monty is stupid and gay, Musical, Musical References, Ted is a massive sweetheart, Theatre Kids, little shop of horrors - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 08:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21443092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomGuygoesviral/pseuds/RandomGuygoesviral
Summary: Monty is the Stage Manager of that years high school production. Little Shop of Horrors. Ted was a techie turned Star of the show. The blond had been cast as Seymour Krelborn.As opening night approaches, the friendship between the two of them grows. Maybe it's more than just a friendship, though. That's what Monty hopes.Little Shop might not have a happy ending... but can't he?
Relationships: Monty/Ted Huxley, Theodore “Ted” Huxley/Monty
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	Opening Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was not meant to be this long, thank you. This thing is like 3.6k. Which was not my intent.  
I'm not mad at it, though.  
Welcome to: Sirus just closed a musical and did Little Shop last year. There's a lot of theatre mumbo jumbo in this fic, so if that isn't your thing I'm sorry. I got over excited over the thought of a theatre kid au.

Ted was a lot stronger than he looked. His physical appearance was very lanky and thin, his arms looked twiggy if you didn’t look for long. He was, all things considered, not that weak, however. This seemed to be shocking to everyone. He looked like a stereotypical tall nerd.

Of course, Monty only believed that Ted was strong after witnessing it first hand. Although it was less ‘witnessing’ and more… experiencing. Unintentionally. He had been unintentionally subjected to being in close proximity with Theodore Huxley’s stronger-than-they-looked arms. Unintentionally.

… Ted had picked him up.

Ted had picked him up and Monty was a hopeless man who was eighteen and allowed to not be straight and good  _ God _ was he a mess.

It was unfair. Completely and totally unfair. One  _ hundred perc- _ it wasn’t fair how attractive Ted was and it definitely wasn’t fair that he was allowed to be muscular in a lean way. Not even kind of.

He’d really done himself in, hadn’t he? The last time a crush had gotten this bad was, what, Carla? Things didn’t work out with her in a romantic way but he could remember when he did that painful pining thing with her. Monty had known for a long time that he wasn’t straight. People assumed he was just because he was into Carla for so long. He’d had many fleeting crushes over time. But this was shaping up to not be fleeting. 

How absolutely pitiful was that? _ God, _ Monty was better than this. Ted wasn’t interested in him like that! Even if he was: the Huxley family would never let their black sheep date a guy,  especially a cripple like Monty . No matter how much he might like to date the Huxley boy… he knew how things were. He was painfully, painfully, aware. 

He had other things to pay attention to, though. Even if those things still involved Ted in a lot of ways. Sometimes he really wished that Ted had stayed a techie with Kidd and Carla. Instead of wooing people with his voice like he did.

The musical they were doing was a classic, everyone knew it. Little Shop of Horrors. Here was the thing about their production of Little Shop, however: Theodore Huxley was playing Seymour Krelborn. And to play Seymour Krelborn, you had to be that awkward kind of cute that made people feel for you.

Theodore Huxley... was perfectly cast. Plus, glasses looked good on him.

It was slightly less thrilling that Cindy was playing Audrey. Everyone and their mom agreed that it should have been Penny, but the director picked favorites. The AD was the main reason that Ted had gotten cast at all.

Then there was Monty. Why was he talking about this? Because he was the Stage Manager, of course. He was the Stage Manager. He’d never been more glad that the main character was a crew kid before that point. Because Ted actually knew to  _ not touch props that weren’t his _ . Which was fantastic. Especially when his co-star was  _ Cindy _ . Who could apparently not keep her grubby little hands off of the props for five seconds.  _ Especially _ Audrey II. That poor puppet. 

It was a full dress rehearsal. Their last before opening night. They were half way through Feed Me (Git It). Besides small technical issues (mostly with body mics and light cues), and a few vocal ones (high/low note strain, people forgetting the odd note), things were going surprisingly well. Monty was in the green room, watching the show from a distance. Really, he was close enough to hear everything, but he didn’t want to crowd the wings with his chair and his cane was kind of loud on the ground.

His worries about his volume were all diminished as he heard the distinct sound of a crash and things falling. On the left wing, it had to have been on the left wing. It would only be that loud on the left wing because he was closer to the left wing.

For the love of-

So much for show quality. Monty wheeled himself over to the prop tables as quickly as humanly possible. The sight that befell him upon reaching it was wholly unsurprising. There was Cindy  _ fucking _ Albertini, holding her side as if a bruise was more important than all of the left wing props. Which were, to be expected, on the ground. Glass. There was  _ glass _ on that table. By some miracle, the glass had landed on top of the Twoie hand puppet and remained unbroken.

And of course, of fucking course, the first thing that Cindy has the audacity to say is,” It wasn’t me!”

“I’ll believe that the day that you admit that Penny would be a better Audrey than you. Now  ** _Clean Up Your Mess!!” _ **

Cindy grumbled something about Monty being a ‘whiny motherfucker’ as she bent down and grabbed an armful of props haphazardly. Graciously, he decided to ignore the fact that she was going to break things. There were props people there, anyhow. As long as Cindy managed to remember  _ one _ of their names, she could have help. He didn’t have the energy to deal with her at that moment (or ever, really), so all Monty did was prop the table back up and carry on his way. 

Part of him wanted to go back to the green room, but he heard some chatter on his headset. Which either meant that he was in trouble or someone else was. Was it Cindy? Hopefully it was Cindy. Monty had really never tolerated her.

“Gringo!” came a familiar voice from the mic,” The curtains! Yell at fly crew to close the curtains, we’ve been sitting here for like thirty seconds. They aren’t listening to me.”

“Ah sh- right!” Monty blinked, looking over to the other wing. His voice had power and if they valued themselves they’d better listen to him speaking over mic. 

“Fly. Close the curtains! We’re breaking for lunch!”

That was how all day rehearsals went. Taking a break to eat before returning to the chaos of hell week. It usually happened at the end of an act, but Monty had a feeling the director was sick and tired of the stuff some people pulled in the wings. As good as Monty was at his job, he couldn’t be everywhere at once. Having a mostly wheelchair bound dude as your Stage Manager created some difficulties. He couldn’t do much beyond calling cues when the wings were crowded with people and props. 

And so they broke for lunch. Monty took his ass back to the green room, grabbed a packed lunch from his bag, and came straight back to the stage. It was better to eat on stage than it was to eat on the wings or in the hair and makeup room, so that’s what everyone did. Unless they wanted to be chewed out by the director, which no one did. 

He forced himself up and out of his chair, settling on the familiar matte paint. Leaning back, lunch sitting on his lap, he let out a long sigh. It would be a moment before the actors could get out of costume enough to come eat. This was one of the rare times where crew could catch a few moments of silence. Even if not all of them were completely quiet. 

Monty appreciated the times he got to reflect on the show, but he also dreaded them. They were reminders of how far things had come, but also of how close things were to being over. There was nothing quite worse than post-show depression in the eyes of a theatre kid. An empty sort of longing for the show that ended and a dull panic for the one that’s approaching. It hadn’t even opened yet, but part of him already missed it. 

“Hey,” a familiar, pleasant, voice spoke, the owner of the voice sitting down beside Monty.

Now this, to be expected, was Theodore Huxley in all his glory. That is, if you were like Monty, and considered what he did to be glory. Being, of course, Ted’s kind eyes, his perfect hair, his fingers that looked perfect for playing piano, how his head tilted slightly to one side when he was waiting for someone to respond, how unfairly tall he was. There was… plenty more that was glorious about him, but Monty forced his brain off of the subject. It wasn’t the time. 

“Heya,” he responded after a moment. 

“We really open tomorrow, huh?”

“We do.”

Ted fiddled with the handle of his lunchbox, taking a long, shaky, breath,” God, I’m terrified.”

“Don’t be,” Monty said with a shrug,” You’ll do fantastic. You’re a good singer, Ted. Not to mention the fact that your charisma is pretty much boundless. Your Seymour is gonna knock the audience dead.”

All Ted could do was shrug. He didn’t even open his lunchbox before setting it aside. The poor guy looked green around the gills. Terrified with the idea of performing, actually performing. Monty felt terribly sorry for him.

“Hey,” Monty grabbed his headset and spoke into the mic on it,” How long do we have until lunch ends?”

“Fifty-ish minutes, why?”

“Perfect.”

And having hardly eaten half of his lunch, Monty hoisted himself back up and onto his chair. He shoved the rest of his food into his bag and rolled it up. They would pass a trash can at some point, he was sure.

Monty glanced back at Ted, raising an eyebrow,” Follow me. Let’s have a chat.”

There was no place that felt quite as crowded at the same time as feeling isolated as the props cave. It was really just a small storage space, completely piled with props. Monty, who when not stage managing, did props, felt very at home. As nonsensical as the clutter was, he seemed to know just where everything was. Ted was less like that. He stumbled in the small space.

“Sit down,” Monty said simply, pointing at an old, cushioned, chair against one wall,” We’re gonna talk for a minute, okay?”

“Huh?” despite his confusion, Ted sat down. The chair seemed to deflate upon contact. 

“There’s no cameras or coms in here.” Monty said, adjusting his glasses,” It’s pretty much the safest place in this damn school to chat. You looked nauseous on the stage earlier. Why?”

“Like I said. I’m nervous.”

“You said you were terrified. Which is a different thing.”

Ted’s hands balled up, grabbing at the fabric of his pants nervously. He seemed nervous, very visibly so. Which was… bad, of course. Not because he was the main character of the show and had to be stage ready or anything. Just because Monty was worried about him.

“Father is still upset that Felix is Orin instead of Seymour. He might not see the show because of it.”

“That’s…” Monty sighed, looking up at Ted’s eyes,” not entirely true, is it?”

“No. No it’s not. He doesn’t want to see the show because I’m the lead. He doesn’t think I’m competent enough to be a good actor. Because I’m completely mediocre elsewhere, of course. Not even having straight B’s is enough for him. So how could acting be any different? How could music, art, dancing,  _ performing _ , ever be any better? How could  _ I _ possibly be better than perfect little Felix? And I know how much pressure Felix is under to be the perfect son, he’s so stressed out all the time. But you know! Sometimes I wish they’d believe in me. Just once. And I- and… I-”

Monty bit down on his lip, weighing the options in front of him. He hadn’t expected Ted to crack so easily. Now Ted was crying and he was the one responsible. Oh this was bad.

In a split moment decision, Monty grabbed the other male’s wrists. His palms were pressed against the tops of Ted’s hands. All he could think to do was to look into his eyes. To look into his eyes and talk. 

“Theodore Huxley. You listen to me here and you listen to me good,” despite the words he was saying, Monty’s voice was soft and level, warmer than normal,” Your father’s views of you do not define you. You aren’t a bad person because you aren’t exactly what your family expects of you. Besides, you’d never act in the first place if you were like that. And when I watch from the wings or the audience? I see how  _ alive _ you look on stage. It tooks like you love it. Do you love being on stage, Ted?”

He sniffled, looking down,” I do.”

“Then who cares what your pops thinks? You need to learn that it’s okay to be who you want to be. If your family can’t believe in you, I’ll believe enough for not only me, not only them, but you, too. Because the way you look on the stage:  _ that’s _ you, Ted.”

Monty let out a faint chime of alarm as he was brought into a tight hug. It lasted for little more than a moment, however, because the moment he realized what was going on, Monty didn’t have a reason to panic. Other than the slight pain in his legs, but he was willing to ignore that. He relaxed, wrapping his arms around Ted’s body. A body that was almost too thin. Pretending to not feel the tears on his flannel was probably the hardest part of the hug.

He realized just how wrong he was about that when he felt Ted sobbing against him. Monty was no good with comfort, he didn’t know entirely how to react to that feeling. There was nothing quite like sensation of someone shaking against him. As much as he joked about being heartless, he couldn’t help but feel a dull ache in his chest. Just with that one thing.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Ted gasped through tears,” I didn’t mean to start crying like that. God I’m such a baby- I… I’m really sorry.”

“Oh shut your mouth. You have absolutely no reason to be sorry. Nothing you did was bad. You’re  _ emotional _ . You’ve got a right to  _ be _ emotional. It’s fine.”

“... Okay.”

Their hands had laced together at some point. Neither of them were entirely sure when that was. Not that it mattered… not that either of them cared. They didn’t.

Curtain call was the biggest relief in any show. Especially on opening night. Monty knew this, as he clapped for the actors from the wings. A familiar blip of excitement grew in his chest as they clapped upwards to the booth. Lights and sound cheered. The actors turned and pointed to the back of the stage as the black-clad running crew revealed themselves from the wings. Many of them wearing at least one costume piece that wasn’t currently in use. Monty was in this group, smiling before having to disappear behind the wings again. 

The final blackout of the night fell and the actors ran off stage to go mingle with the audience. Most of them, anyhow. As the house lights turned on, the star of the show himself waltzed in front of him. Ted stood there, a big, giddy smile on his face as he took a moment to catch his breath. He was bouncing up and down on his toes, which probably made it difficult to actually calm down. Which was not a great thing, but Ted was probably still on that last rush of adrenaline.

“So. How was your first night?” Monty asked him, wheeling down the wings so they could get off stage and to the audience.

Ted took a deep breath, that wide smile still on his face,” It was fantastic! Oh we did so well! Cindy didn’t flip the verses of Somewhere That’s Green and Felix’s song went really well and I didn’t mess up on Git It and! I’m so happy! We did a good job!”

“You did. I’m proud of you guys!”

Ted was several paces in front of him, all but jumping in the air. He seemed genuinely ecstatic at the performance. It was well deserved, too. Opening night had been more than a success. The actors and the crews all did a fantastic job. That was opening night, though. Night one was usually like that. Not that it was a bad thing, of course! Doing well was a good thing!

Breaking into the crowd of people that had just watched a musical was thrilling, sure. But Monty’s momma wasn’t gonna be there until tomorrow. Monty, as such, hung back near the theatre doors while Ted went to greet people. He was the star of the show, after all. It wasn’t as if Monty minded. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d much rather stay near the less crowded areas. 

As a Stage Manager, Monty was required to stay before and after the actors left most nights. This wasn’t a big deal, he could get a ride from Carla, who stayed about as late thanks to being lights and sound. Not all of the actors left immediately, however. Which meant that, some nights, he got extra time to chat with a select few people. This appeared to be a night where one of these people actively seeked him out. 

He felt a tap on his shoulder and he whipped around to see who’d touched him. To his surprise, there was Ted. He’d assumed that the Huxley’s would be among the first to go. Apparently he’d been wrong. In the blond’s arms were several bouquets of flowers. There was a nervous look in his eyes that Monty didn’t quite understand. Had something happened? Did something break?

“Um… Hey,” He said after a beat.

“Heya.”

“So, uh, one of… one of my father’s employees came to see the show tonight. I was given… a lot of flowers…” Ted was looking away from him, now. Where was this going?

“I see that, yeah.”

”Do you… uh… do you want one of the bouquets?”

Monty was, rightfully, caught a bit off guard at that. He sort of looked up at the blond, startled. That was… certainly a question. He was subtly aware of a burning in his cheeks.

He coughed into a fist,” Yeah, sure.”

“Oh cool!”

Ted promptly dropped one of the bundles of flowers onto the gingers lap and hightailed it out of there. Monty didn’t even have the time to respond. He just sort of… sat there and looked on. Something was going on, he knew it.

Now there was a thing about this bouquet that was different from the other ones. It was noticeably bigger and more expensive looking. The bouquet was also made up of various coloured roses. Those being red, purple, and a sort of peachy pink. Now Monty was no flower expert, but he knew that red roses were inherently romantic.

The most stand out part of the arrangement, however, was a crisp, white, card that was stuck into it. This was, he realized, not something that Ted’s father’s… employee(?) would leave. Monty came to a conclusion. This bouquet was made for him, specifically. The note was made for him,  _ specifically _ .

… Oh God.

Pulling himself into a corner, Monty took a breath that he wasn’t sure why he needed. And then he opened the note. It was written in very careful cursive. In a deep crimson ink, undisturbed completely. There were no streaks on the paper, everything was almost so perfect he thought it was typed for a moment. If not for the way the ink carried a bit on the periods, he would have been convinced that it was. 

_ Dear Monty, _

_ I’m sure this note is probably a surprise to you. I don’t really know what to say other than the fact that I hope it finds you well. _

_ I was originally going to give this to you on closing night, but I was worried that the flowers would wilt. So I’m doing it opening night. I suppose it’s poetic, in a way. Opening up to you on opening night. Though that’s probably stupid, right? _

_ Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Truly, deeply, thank you for everything that you’ve done for me. I could not possibly fathom getting the lead, sticking to it, and performing without your help. Not only are you the best stage manager I could have asked for, but you’re also the best moral support. You have a way of making my anxieties seem so small that I wish I could do myself.  _

_ Even before the show itself. You’ve always been there for a reason I didn’t really understand. I can’t possibly fathom why you’ve taken an interest in helping me. You have always been the stuborn type, though, haven’t you? Not that that’s a bad thing. _

_ I’m running out of space on the notecard, however. So I guess I have to wrap it up now. I know that this is going to make things awkward, but I suppose there’s nothing I can do to avoid that. _

_ I like you. And I don’t mean that in a platonic sort of way. I think you are one of the most lovely people I’ve ever met. I’m sure that’s cheesy and dumb, but I don’t care. I like you, you mean something to me. I’ll see you tomorrow.  _

_ -Theodore Huxley _

Monty felt his pale cheeks go white hot as he read through the note. He was really nothing special. Ted really thought all of that about him? About Monty? The sorta guy who was there to boss folks around. Someone who only ever annoyed people. Theodore Huxley really liked  _ him? _

He grinned. Maybe there was something that he had going for him. His silly little crush on a Huxley suddenly seemed a lot less silly.

… Opening night had gone really well. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sai? Leaving the ending vague? Nooooooo... Neverrrrr.  
In all fairness: I might make a second part to this fic. We'll see. I hope this was soft enough for y'all! I actually had a lot of fun writing it!  
Kudos and comments are appreciated! I love getting feedback on my work!


End file.
